Anthropomorphic Love
by FanboyPhaedrus
Summary: Percival Graves thought being kidnapped by Grindlewald was the worst and most shocking thing that could happen to him!... Turns out he was wrong! Swooping Evil/Percival Graves! You have been warned!


Part One: Apathy.

With powerful, assertive steps, Percival Graves strode through the entrance hall of the grand MACUSA building, towards the stairs and the corridor which led to his office. His long coat flowing out behind him as he hurried through the space, he kept his eyes dead ahead. Clutching a paper coffee cup in his hand, he took occasional, nourishing, deep breaths of the aroma, as though it were sustaining him as he negotiated the space.

There were people everywhere. He avoided eye contact with any of them. It was 8.45am on a Thursday morning. Once the clocks struck 9, once he was at his desk and his day had officially begun, he would make all the eye contact necessary, have all of the conversations that were needed, and generally be as personable as his job demanded and his personality would allow. Before 9am however, it was not required. All this stopping and chatting in the foyer, it was frivolous and unnecessary. People stopped to say good morning to each other, talking and 'catching up' as though they hadn't seen each other a mere 10 hours ago when they left to go home. Young wizards posed and witches smiled at them and batted their eyelashes. Graves sighed crossly. Was this a place of work or a school yard?

He did not pose, or smile or talk to anyone, but that didn't stop them from noticing him. In fact it seemed to make it worse. Pretty young witches in tight fitting sweaters and pencil skirts smiled coyly at him as he passed. He ignored them as he always did. He had ignored the pretty young witches so long that now that these days several wizards made similar smiles at him, wondering if they were in with more of a chance.

A chance of what, Graves wondered? Well, he supposed he knew exactly what they wanted, these people who looked at him that way. They saw him, assertive, powerful, dark and brooding, and for some reason it made them want him. He couldn't understand it. The more clear he made it that he was cynical, withdrawn and utterly emotionally unavailable, the more people seemed to want to get close to him. They wanted him to take them home, have him do bad things to them. They wanted to submit to him, in this most demanding of ways. Why, he wondered, could they not simply be content to submit by getting on with their jobs and leaving him alone?

Men, women, it made no difference. Percival Graves had no interest in either. He didn't consider himself entirely asexual. It was simply that all of this... interaction he observed around him, it was all so... tedious. It was so formulaic. One person boasted and showed themselves off, the other giggled and pretended to be timid... and like this they danced and crowed around each other until they felt they could finally act on their basic desires. It was laughable and ludicrous.

He made his safely to his office, muttered the customary 'good morning' to his overly made-up secretary, and hurriedly shut himself in the room with his black coffee and his misanthropic attitude for company.

· * *

The day was not set to improve. From its familiar, infuriating beginning, it escalated rapidly into a farce when the memo arrived that, despite the best efforts of the trainee auror teams, the remaining escaped magical beasts had not been apprehended. On top of that there were rumours surfacing that the Obscurial has not been destroyed in the subway, and was still at large somewhere in the city.

In his heart, Graves was pleased the Obscurial may not have been killed. It shouldn't have been killed after all. The oldest surviving Obsucrial in recorded history, it should have been studied at the very least, and also maybe, helped.

But these 'beasts' were the real problem. The Obscurial, well, he was human, wasn't he? He was ultimately just a wizard. A young, frightened wizard, who could be reasoned with, talked to, calmed down and worked with by the appropriate people who could do that type of thing.

Beasts however were a complete unknown and this both troubled and intrigued Graves. Magical beasts weren't like regular animals, nor were they like people, they were almost somewhere between the two. They needed to be found and they needed to be caught.

It would have been interesting to him once, to be out on such a mission. It was the kind of thing that as a young auror he would have enjoyed in a way: Tracking and capturing strange and unpredictable magical beasts. It should have made a nice change from tracking and capturing the shady criminals of the New Youk underworld, but it didn't feel like a nice change. His pride was still sore after being captured and impersonated by Grindlewald and now he was back at work, the whole place was a mess. A missing Obscurial, unknown beasts straying all over the city... It was a disaster, or at least it felt like one, and he, Percival Graves was right at the heart of it.

After all he had been through at the hands of Grindlewald, nobody blamed him for the mess, but that didn't stop him blaming himself. He had been abducted, for Merlin's sake! Abducted and held captive while Grindlewald had been running around the city doing terrible things in his name. Now the Department for Magical Security, his department, was ricocheting from crisis to crisis. Percival Graves did not know how much more humiliation he could take. The last month had broken apart everything he thought he knew about himself; the strong, resolute, austere man that he believed he was. He had been weak. He had thought he was going to die at Grindlewald's hands. He had begged for his life. He had cried. Surely, there was nothing so disempowering in all the world? Surely there was nothing below that?

And so he set out, that dark and overcast afternoon, on the trail of one of these beasts, reportedly seen around the disused docks earlier that day. He would have to try to clean up at least part of this mess, seeing as though the trainee aurors had failed so spectacularly to do so!

Part Two. Awakening.

The empty dock buildings were dark, dank and sinister. It was easy to imagine all sorts of dangerous magical creatures coming to hide in a place like this. It was fortunate Graves thought to himself, that no-majs didn't really come here these days, except for the odd one or two, high on moonshine who wondered in here in the small hours of the morning.

Percival Graves would never have described himself as someone who was given to being afraid, but it was accurate to say that his recent experiences had changed him. He was jumpy, he was much more nervous than before. Even the smallest of things could shake him in ways it wouldn't have done in the past. In years to come No-Maj psychologists would call conditions like this 'post traumatic stress disorder', but here and now, Percival Graves just told himself to get a grip and pull himself together.

Every sound made him jump: Every rattle of the old pipes, every flutter of wings as scabby old pigeons were startled by his presence.

It was some kind of bird-like creature that had been sighted here. The report had described some kind of winged horror, deep vivid blue and green, with a long skull-like face, covered in what seemed to be a cross between scales and feathers. Graves didn't know exactly what it was, but the reports had described it as huge, fast and powerful.

He gripped his wand tightly. At the first sight of this thing he would stun it, kill it if he had to. This was not Grindlewald he was facing. This was just some creature. He could handle this.

He jumped with fright and then hastily ducked down to the floor as a huge winged creature soared close over his head with a piercing, sinister cry. Graves cursed out loud. Looking up, he glimpsed the beast just as it disappeared from sight into the rafters.

It was enormous! He had expected a creature bigger than a standard bird, perhaps a little larger than a golden eagle, or an eagle-owl, but this thing was as big as a man! Adrenalin coursed through him, making him tremble. He steadied himself, reminding himself that he was the one in control here. He was the wizard. He was the one with a wand! He got back on his feet and walked towards the point where the creature had disappeared from sight, hoping to see where it had gone.

Swoop was watching him. He has been watching him from the moment he appararted to the building. He had been watching him, and doing a far better job of tracking Graves than Graves was doing of tracking him. The Swooping Evil found Graves very interesting, with his long grey coat flowing out behind him like wings... What was he? Was he a threat? Was he food... or was he something else? Swoop soared near him to investigate.

He had cowered, so he probably wasn't a threat. He was potentially food, but something about the submissive way he had gone to the ground had suggested something different.

Swoop soared down again, coming from behind and taking Graves by surprise, knocking him off his feet.

Graves gave a cry, which he instantly felt embarrassed by, despite the fact there was no other person here to hear it. He screamed, almost exactly simultaneously that the creature screamed it's own piercing screech. Graves found himself face down on the dirty floor of the abandoned building, his wand knocked from his hand.

Disorientated, he was about to apparete, initially to the point just ahead of him where his wand lay, and then immediately away to a safe corner to devise a plan... However in his split second of thinking time, the beast was upon him!

Graves screamed again as he felt claws tear into his arm and shoulder. Even through his clothing it hurt him. The creature cried again, a terrifying, yet almost rapturous screech in answer to Graves's own scream.

The weight of the beast pinned him down. In flight it hadn't looked like it would be quite so heavy, or like it would have quite such physical power, but now it was upon him, he could hardly move! The bird-like claws gripped his arms and the weight of the creatures body held him firm. It grappled with him as he tried his best to fight. What did it want? What was it trying to do? It's claws slashed at him. It seemed to have an awful lot of claws and various other sharp pieces with which to attack him. Graves realised he didn't really know exactly what it was he was trying to fight. He had seen it in flight, but only fleetingly as it disappeared. How well armed was this thing? It had claws, that was for sure. They had already made light work of his coat and shirt sleeves, and now dug straight into his flesh like rows of tiny knife points, drawing blood from his wrists. He was aware of the pain, certainly, but he was more aware of his own fear. His survival instincts meant that he put the pain to one side to focus of finding a way to free himself from this creature and to escape. He could deal with his wounds later!

He had to see what he was up against in order to know how best to fight it. It was not easy with the creature on his back, but he turned his head in order to look at his assailant.

He instantly wished he had not! The creature was terrifying! Looking over his shoulder Graves saw it's long, skull like face, mere millimetres from his own. It was like the skull of a bird although it didn't have a beak, so much as a long jaw, full of ferocious looking teeth. His fear redoubled and he opened his mouth to scream.

As he screamed, the creature screamed too, as it had done before. It was only with hindsight that Graves realised it was answering him. Face to face and screaming, the creature lunged its mouth towards him. Graves assumed it planned to bite him, with rows of teeth like that it could rip his face off if it wanted to, but instead something perhaps more disturbing happened.

A long, cold grey tongue darted from the creatures open mouth, it was more like the tongue of a snake than of any kind of bird. It flicked slowly over Graves's face, running round his neck and reaching under his collar. It moved upwards and to his mouth. The beasts tongue delved into his open mouth as he tried to scream. It flicked around the corner of his lips, exploring him with a ferocious curiosity.

In horror, Graves tried to pull away, but he could hardly move. The beast had free reign to probe his mouth with it's tongue. Even trying to close his lips tightly did not to stop it. All that it meant was it went back to exploring his face, and slashing further at his shoulders as though trying to expose more and more of his flesh to taste.

It was going to eat him. That was what it wanted, Graves realised. It must be carnivorous, surely with a sinister face like that. It was going to savage him and eat him! He panicked. This was not how he wanted to die! It was not heroic, it was not how he wanted to be remembered! Savaged by some unknown beast in an abandoned building was hardly a fitting end for his illustrious career! It would not be quick, it would certainly not be painless. He fought harder, bucking his hips up against the creature in an attempt to throw it off.

The beast gave an almost delighted cry as his backwards thrusting motions rutted back against its body. It seemed to strengthen its position, holding firm above him, its entire enormous wing span holding him down. It has claws on the tips of its wings at the front, but also seemed to have them on the tips of its wings at the back as now it frantically began to tear at his lower torso. To his horror it ripped through his clothing like it was paper.

Still Percival Graves's fear was that this demonic creature was going to eat him. He writhed and fought to no avail under the body of the beast. He was becoming aware that his clothing was beyond tattered and torn, it was pretty much destroyed by the claws and teeth of this creature. If he survived this and if he was not eaten by the monster he would have to hope he had the strength to apparete home. Being discovered naked was more humiliation he did not want to have to endure!

He thrust back against the creature as hard as he could, hoping to dislodge it from his back. He was unsuccessful but this time he felt a change in the body of the beast which assaulted him. Although the outer body of the creature was hard and plated with an armour-like shell, the underside had been soft as he fought against it. However, now he felt a strange leathery hardness against the base of his back, a thick rod of hard scaly flesh, with an odd, cold wetness to the end of it.

Graves realised what was about to happen only a split second before it occurred. He screamed again, inviting the creature to cry happily in unison, and dart it's tongue into his mouth once more. He should have realised his cries encouraged it, that they translated into consent in this beasts language.

The beasts body began to move and grind against his in a surprisingly rhythmic, thrusting motion. Graves pushed his hips down hard against the floor, desperately trying to prevent this from happening, but there was no escape.

The beast penetrated him and he involuntarily gave another cry which simply encouraged it to thrust deeper inside him. Graves tensed his whole body in pain.

As a man who was not given to seeking out physical or emotional closeness with others, such a practice as this was entirely unfamiliar to him. He has never been taken this way before by a wizard, yet alone by a beast. He was shocked! Thoroughly shocked!

The beast has calmed its thrusts slightly to a needy, persistent speed, but with far less aggression than previously. And the clawing had stopped too. Perhaps because, in his shock, he had stopped fighting? Graves was frozen to the spot, unable to move a great deal under the weight of the Swooping Evil. He was momentarily paralysed and hypnotised by this odd and completely new sensation. The creatures thick, cold' leathery erection drove steadily into him and he felt himself becoming first limp and then dizzy as he had almost no choice but to accept it. He had to relax into it and simply wait for it to pass... And to hope that these things didn't kill after mating, like some kind of giant mantis!

Graves slowed his breathing, and as the creature fucked him he felt himself begin to shudder as it hit a point inside him which made him see stars behind his eyes. He gasped involuntarily.

Swoop made a sort of soft, cooing noise and pressed the side of its face against his, licking him again with fervent desire. Graves's fingers tried to clutch at the dusty ground and he closed his eyes. He swallowed a wave of nausea as he realised to his horror that this was not hurting him, it was pleasing him.

His mind was not pleased! His mind was intensely outraged that this was happening! He was ashamed and furious and he felt like crying, perhaps even more than when he had pleaded with Grindlewald to spare his life! His mind was deeply disturbed by what was happening but somehow his body was not. He could not ignore it, his body was enraptured by this experience. In all his life he had never known physical pleasure like this. Even being face down in the dirt did not detract from the strange, overwhelming experience of being taken by this beast. This strong, powerful monster which, far from wanting to eat or kill him, was now focused solely on pushing him further and further towards the very brink of pleasure. He sobbed in shame and horror. How could this be happening?

Swoop was elated with his new find. What a fascinating mate! Clearly he was filled with drive and desire, even if their making was purely recreational, it didn't matter. He franticly yet lovingly thrust inside his new mate, savouring what he was certain would be the first of many copulations this season!

The sensation was exquisite, Graves sobbed at the realisation that he was undoubtedly going to climax from this assault, something he had rarely ever done in past encounters. Past 'relationships', if that was what you could call them, had always been so messy, so unnecessarily involved that it had been hard to switch off and enjoy the physical aspect. This bizarre experience was detached from any other aspect of his life. It was a random, chance experience which he could never have predicted, and the alarming reality was, it was satisfying him like nothing ever had before. Against his will he felt himself rutting back against the monster which fucked him.

His mind wondered, his thoughts unclear, for a split second before he came he wondered once more if this thing was going to kill him. He almost no longer cared. He cried out, almost losing consciousness entirely as he climaxed.

He was so dizzy with shock, pleasure and horror that he was almost oblivious as the Swooping Evil finished its deep hard thrusts with one final long drive into him as it shot what felt like litres of cum into him.

The creature slowly pulled out and Graves shuddered as it did so, now intensely aware of the volume of cold sticky fluid inside him and all over his thighs. His breathing became a little easier as the weight of the beast pressed down on him a little less firmly. It's appetite satisfied, it stopped forcefully restraining him, and seemed to rest for a moment, recovering from its conquest.

Graves seized his chance. Summoning every scrap of strength he had, he leapt forward, grabbed his wand and appareted away. Back to his apartment, back to safety.

Part Three. Amore.

Percival Graves appeared on the rug beside his bed. His heart was pounding, he became aware of tears running down his cheeks. He had only every cried twice in his adult life, and both times had been within the last month. What was his life becoming? He hated emotions, hated the rigmarole of them. Why did he have to cry? He had survived, hadn't he? He was alright! Crying achieved nothing. It didn't make it magically not have happened, and it didn't mean that he had not enjoyed it! And it was the fact that he had enjoyed it which troubled him even more than it happening at all!

His legs were shaking as he staggered to his feet, having to rely on leaning on the bed to help him stand. Walking was difficult. Everything hurt. It hurt in places he didn't know he could hurt. It hurt in ways it hadn't hurt at the time. Trembling, and leaning on various pieces of furniture to assist him, he made his way to the bathroom which adjoined his bedroom.

The tears had stopped now, much to his relief. There was work to be done. Some of his injuries required immediate attention. Some of them would be challenging for him to heal. The cuts were so deep, and he was not a healer. Although aurors had a good level of medical training they weren't experts. However, as Graves caught sight of himself in the mirror, tattered, torn, and soiled by the beast which had attacked him, he knew there was no way he would go to anyone else for help!

He used all of his skill to heal the deepest cuts and scratches. They were extremely painful now and some would surely leave scars. Graves battled to remain conscious and not to be sick as he healed a cut which went right to the bone.

Once the worst of the injuries were fixed to the best of his abilities, Graves stood up and stumbled to the bathroom cabinet, leaning on the sink for support. He opened the mirrored front and located a bottle of healing potion. It was dusty as he rarely used it. He took a large swig and felt himself swoon as if he were drunk, remembering how strong this potion was. Never the less, he took another mouthful. He looked at his reflection. Merlin, he was a mess! His face was bruised and grazed from the floor of the abandoned building, his arms, legs and back were scarred. He watched the wounds fade as the potion took effect.

'Id hate to think what state I'd be in if it had actually wanted to hurt me!'

He said out loud to his reflection, and then laughed, which was most probably due to the effect of the potion rather than because he thought anything about this was funny.

He showered at once. He was glad he was in a state of half drunkenness as he removed his tattered clothes, which were wet with the creatures fluid. He felt only mildly repulsed as he threw them in the fireplace and burnt them. They were beyond repair, even by the very best magical tailor.

Once in the shower, he turned the heat up as high as he could possibly stand and scrubbed himself all over. His muscular body felt oddly unlike his own after the creatures assault on him and he was nervous to touch the area where the beast had penetrated him. It was strange to feel so dissociated from his own body. This was the body he spent 4 nights in the gym for, punishing himself for the 2 full fat cappuccinos he allowed himself at the weekends. It did not feel like he knew it at all. The unspeakable act the creature had performed on him had pleasured him in ways he had never dreamt of. Whatever it was this body wanted, who ever this body truly belonged to, he was not sure. He felt as though he did not know himself at all.

He washed thoroughly and spent far longer in the shower than he would usually have done. Once he emerged, the bathroom and his bedroom were filled with steam from the hot water. Still shaky on his feet, Graves took another swig of the healing potion, stumbled to his bedroom window and propped it open to let the steam out. He then collapsed onto the bed where he fell into a deep yet troubled sleep.

· * *

Swoop had been momentarily confused when Graves had disappeared. Where was his new mate going? They had not finished! They had only just begun! Swoop supposed it was not unusual for a potential new mate to be flighty, to play 'hard to get' and to require some chasing. It was a behaviour that had to be tolerated, a dance which had to be carried out. Swoop was accepting of traditional mating ritual behaviours in a way that Graves wasn't!

Swoop had seen people apparate before so it did not phase him greatly. This one would not be hard to find. No amount of washing would remove Swoops scent from him. Swoop could track him down and find him in a mere matter of hours. With a cry, Swoop soared upwards and set out to find his intended companion. The bonding ritual was not yet complete and Swoop was keen to complete it and consolidate their union.

It was dark when Graves opened his eyes, awakened by a draft of cold air. Night had fallen and a cold breeze was coming through the curtains. His body ached too much to stand up to go and close the window. He simply turned over and was about to pull the blankets around himself when he heard a rustle of wings...

He froze where he lay, on his back, immobilised with fear. It was the fear which often took him since his kidnap, but did not suspect for one minute this was Grindlewald coming for him. In his heart, he knew already what this was...

He should have closed the window!

Swoop had located him and now he glided in though the open window, which his mate had clearly left that way intentionally, and circled the room with a joyous cry.

'No!' Graves cried weakly.

Swoop either didn't understand, or didn't care about his protests, as in seconds he was back upon him. He pinned him down for the second time that day, with the same intention as before. He saw the beasts full size as it descended upon him, its wings outstretched. He braced himself for the brutal assault of its sharp claws, however it did not come. The creature settled on top of him and whilst its talons at the wing tips had taken hold of his wrists, this time they held him down without scratching at him.

Swoop had realised the damage he had done in their first union. He realised his chosen mate was not as tough as him. He tried to be gentle this time.

This time they were face to face. But even now, Swoops great strength made it easy for him to push Graves's legs apart and position himself to enter him once more.

Graves had no strength to fight, he simply submitted to it helplessly, partly because he had very little choice and partly due to a disquieting yearning to feel that feeling again.

Graves yielded to him, far more willing than he wanted to ever admit. He allowed Swoop to fuck him, gasping in raw delight at the sensation. It was even better than his body remembered. Swoop ploughed him slowly, firmly with deep, meaningful thrusts. It was a terrifyingly beautiful experience. The underside of his wings were soft and they covered them both like a blanket.

Percival Graves felt tears in his eyes again. This was submission. This was surrender. He had been forced to surrender his power to Grindlewald and the experience had robbed him of his dignity and confirmed everything he thought he knew about himself: He had to be in control. He despised his own weakness. He needed power.

This experience with the swooping evil was teaching him new lessons. This submission taught him to feel the beauty of surrender. He found himself learning to enjoy a moment of helplessness as this oddly malevolent creature took him. It cooed as though it were singing love songs to him. Its face beside his, it licked him gently and carefully this time. To submit to something which scares you and to discover that it means you no harm, teaches you a good many things about the nature of fear. It teaches you a good many things about yourself.

Graves could feel the beasts intense desire for him as it fucked him in a way which was meaningful and passionate. This creature didn't want him simply because of the form of his body. Nor did it want him for his money, success or because of his position of power. It was pleasing and refreshing to be desired in such a way. A way that was truly liberated from the predictable and mundane! He had to begin to ask himself the unnerving question; did he desire this creature as much as it desired him? The answer was certainly becoming 'yes'.

He closed his eyes. He relaxed. He allowed himself to savour every second of the encounter, gasping with intense pleasure as they climaxed together at the end.

His sense of reality creeping back, Graves wondered for a moment what would happen now. Would the creature go? If it did, would it ever come back? He felt an odd sense of panic until he realised that the creature was not going anywhere. Instead it settled down, beside him, enfolding him in its wings.

Nothing can hold you like a Swooping Evil. It's wings, Graves noticed, were as soft as suede leather on the inside, and they embraced him tenderly, holding him in a protective cocoon.

With the creatures wings wrapped around him lovingly, Graves suddenly found himself feeling very safe and secure, very protected and oddly content. In this gentle, yet armour plated embrace, it felt like nothing he feared could get to him. For a fleeting moment, he remembered his childhood, the young Percival who had feared monsters under the bed. He had vowed to become an Auror and stamp out all the monsters in the world. He was not unaware of the irony of this situation; now he felt safer than he had ever felt in his life, wrapped in the wings of a monster.

As he closed his eyes, Graves became increasingly aware of the sensation of the creatures breathing, as it held him. His hazy thoughts mused over each breath it took. There was something comforting about it, feeling this creature breathing. Knowing that it did in fact have to breath, in much the same way he did. However different they were from one another, it was somehow reassuring to realise that they both had to breath in similar ways. The soft rhythm of the creatures breaths began to lull him to sleep. Graves felt his tired body relax.

Swoop felt it too, his mate became heavy and complicit inside his wings, clearly accepting the claim that was being made on him. Swoops white eyes closed contentedly, now that the lasting bond between them had been consolidated.

When morning came the creature was still holding him and Graves flinched with fear upon waking. Swoop, awoken by his movements, made a gentle cooing sound and loosened his grip on Graves just enough so that he could get up.

Slightly surprised at the easy of this, Graves got out of bed and he tried hard not to look back at the scaly creature which still lay there as he made his way to the bathroom to shower.

His heart was racing as he started the water... Just what was his life at this moment? A monster lay in his bed, like a lover, while he went to shower, ready for work as casually as if he had spent the night with a woman, like any normal wizard. He stepped under the running water and allowed the heat to soothe him a little. He had to get to work after all, despite what may have happened in the last 12 hours.

He heard the sound of wings and he looked around the shower curtain and saw Swoop soar into the bathroom, attracted by the humidity. For a second Grave braced himself for the creature to descend upon him and take him in the shower, he was slightly alarmed by the realisation that he wouldn't try to fight it off, however, Swoop left him alone. He simple circled the room and then settled to rest, hanging upside down from the bathroom shelf.

Graves watched fascinated as Swoop seemed almost to change shape fluidly, changing from the enormous creature which could pin him down powerless on the bed, to a small cocoon which Graves could probably hold in his hand. This was a remarkable creature indeed. It hung, motionless, but he could sense it watching him while he bathed, clearly enjoying the humidity caused by the hot water.

Graves finished showering and made his way, unmolested, to the kitchen where he made himself a coffee. He had dressed in the bathroom and was slightly unnerved when Swoop soared into the kitchen with a loud cry, Graves sincerely hoped that he was not about to ravage him again! One set of clothing had been destroyed already! If the creature could only learn to wait it would be far more convenient! He was troubled by his willingness to accept the situation!

He sat down. Swoop hung from the corner of a kitchen cabinet, still watching him as he drank his coffee.

At last Graves stood up. He looked about him as if to check that no one else was in ear-shot.

'I'm going to work.' He announced, feeling embarrassed even as he did so. Was he really talking to this thing? Telling it he was going to work? Would he arrive back in the evening calling out _'Hi honey, I'm home!'_?

Perhaps he would!


End file.
